


It wasn't your fault

by Arzani



Category: Black Sails
Genre: 4x06, A lot of Hurt, F/M, I rewatched the scene between James and John in the cabin, Introperspective, M/M, Multi, and I believe this is why John repeated the sentence, and not so much comfort, at least i hope so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10102175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: The door opened. No need to check who it was. The only one who would approach him was Flint. James. The only one he could stand without shouting to fucking leave him alone was James. He couldn’t muster up the energy to fight with him. Not now. Not like this.James enters the cabin to apologize to John... and John. He just speaks what he truly feels. Even though all he feels is grief.(4x06 spoiler: Set in the "cabin scene")





	

He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel. Where his heart had once been, was a hole now, deep and black and numb and _aching_. How could nothingness ache like this? So rawly and thoroughly and painfully?

If he could just cry. But there were no tears. Tears would mean a soothing, but this pain was everlasting and nothing, nothing would ever make it alright again. It was just a part of him that was missing now. A part he hadn’t known some weeks ago, and now it was destroying him. Cutting through him, like daggers cut through flesh. Torturing and slowly.

Becoming attached. He had known why he never had wanted to become attached. But this fucking island had changed everything. Being a pirate had changed everything. He should have walked away when he had had the chance. Now it was too late.

And even this knowledge didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. Madi was gone. Madi was dead. He was dead. It felt like it.

The door opened. No need to check who it was. The only one who would approach him was Flint. James. The only one he could stand without shouting to fucking leave him alone was James. He couldn’t muster up the energy to fight with him. Not now. Not like this.

So he talked about Rackham. Asked if there was any sign of him, of the ship. But no. No. Surely there wasn’t. Because they had abandoned them. Like it was their god-damn right. To just quit. He wished he could do the same. But he couldn’t. Not anymore. But he understood. Understood that they wanted to flee from a war that only took. Took and took and gave nothing back.

He wasn’t looking at James when he sat next to him. Couldn’t muster the energy. Because he knew he would break into tears, would quiver and break and shatter into a thousand pieces. Just like that. Because he knew what he would see. So much guilt. So much self-hatred. So much sadness. So much lost. And nothing returned.

How was James living with the pain? For ten years now. How could he still walk, breath, live, without wanting to drown? How could he?

And he realized James couldn’t. In the back of his mind he realized James didn’t. Didn’t live with it.

The one time he dragged him back ashore.

Every fucking time James flung himself onto another ship, into battle, to take a prize.

In the cage.

Every god-damn time he was willing to sacrifice his life for this. This war. That took and took and took. It had consumed James a long time ago. Left him suffering. Left them both suffering. Left them to each other, the only thing that remained. Them.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

It would be so easy to hate James. Flint.

Everyone had warned him. Billy had told him this darkness would consume Madi, just like it had consumed Gates and Mrs. Barlow and Thomas. It would be so easy to believe. To believe it was all Flint’s fault.

But he could hear guilt when it was spoken. Raw and genuine and saturating the whole room. It was there. Every step James had ever taken was filled with guilt. And he blamed himself. Blamed himself for Madi’s death. For everyone’s death. But it was not James who had killed her. It hadn’t been his hands. Not his blade, neither his gun. If anyone had taken her, them, it was this god-forsaken war. It had taken James a long time ago. Had swallowed him and spat him back out, only to grief and suffer. To _ache_.

Had anyone ever told him it was not his fault? John doubted the world was that fair. Because it never was. It only took and never gave anything in return.

James wasn’t believing him. It was obvious. He didn’t even need to look, couldn’t look. But it was there, was written in every line of his face. In his eyes. So sorrowful. So ready to take the guilt. Take everything John may throw at him. But not ready to take this. He wished James would believe him. Wished there was a way.

“It wasn’t… your fault!”

But there was not.

The hand on his shoulder. The sorrow. The pain. Ten years of people making him believe it was his fault.

James wished to fight England. But in the end, it was his own mind that made him fall. Because it didn’t grant him, James, absolution when it was offered.

It was too late. Too late for redemption. Too late for comfort. Too late.

Because this war took and took and took. And without Madi, John didn’t know how to give. How to be a rock. Even though he knew James needed it. As much as he needed it. Comfort.

Each other. Having each other. It was the only thing left.

And he didn’t want to lose it, too. But he had learned that a war always took, and never gave back.

He was alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> Cry with me over the episode on tumblr ...


End file.
